The Letter
by Andatariel.x
Summary: Craig writes a letter of apology. Because he's messed things up. Again. CREEK.
1. Craigs Letter

The Letter

Letter 1 - Craigs Letter.

Dear Tweek

You know it took me fifteen minutes to decide which word to use up there? I went for the traditional one in the end.

So… I'll just get it out here right now and tell you I miss you. I miss you like you wouldn't believe. I've been thinking, in fact I've done a lot of thinking and I want you to know I'm sorry. For everything.

Do you remember when we graduated elementary school and Mr. Garrison crying made you cry too and you went to the bathroom because you didn't want anybody to see?  
Then you wouldn't even admit it, not even to me, because "Jesus, I'm too old to cry, it's too much pressure!"  
I'm sorry I laughed at you and I'm sorry that my laughter upset you. I only laughed because you were being too damn cute.

And the first day of high school; you were holding that coffee cup so hard I was worried it would break and you'd get burnt. I remember having to steer you into the building and hoping to hell you would actually calm down enough so that you didn't run right out of the school.

That first day was pretty hellish for all of us I think. Going from being the rulers of the school to the bottom of the pile again. It even got to fuckin' Cartman.

I think that was a bad month all 'round. That was the month some dipshit wrote; "Craig is gay" on my locker and I got in trouble for dousing him with your coffee.  
Then my dad, some fucking great parent he was, asked me if I was and when I couldn't deny it he beat the tar out of me.  
I remember stumbling out of the house and getting the to end of the road only to stop because I didn't have my shoes, my hat, my coat… and I had nowhere to go. Then seconds later I felt stupid and started to make my way to yours.

I never expected what should have been a five minute walk to talk almost half an hour but it's amazing when a good knocking about and then walking in the snow in a t-shirt and no shoes can do to you.

I still remember the look on your mums face when she saw me on the doorstep bruised and bleeding in my soaking wet socks.  
But the thing that I can remember really clearly, though at the time it was like I was watching you in slow-motion, was you turning around and the horror on your face when you saw me. I have honestly never felt that cared about in my entire life.

Your mum was so good about it as well. She didn't even care that her son was holding another boy, planting kisses on my face, calling me honey and god I can't even remember what else anymore… I was in shock over that I think, it was such a contrast because your parents just didn't care and mine, well my dad had whacked ten bells out of me and my mum had told me I deserved the beating, even if I know I didn't. But there were your parents, your wonderful parents (who probably hate me now, God knows I do deserve that,) telling you that I'd need a warm shower and that there were plenty of fresh towels, telling you not to worry about getting blood on things and that they'd make us a warm pot of coffee.

I don't remember getting up the stairs, I don't remember much of anything from your arms pulling me towards the stairs to opening my eyes as you turned the water on and realizing that we were both standing in your shower cubicle fully dressed getting soaked by warm water.

Then I cried and I cried and I couldn't stop myself and you held me even though you didn't need a shower and your clothing was getting wet. I remember pulling away and your arms locking and stopping me. You leaning forwards and resting your forehead on mine your nose touching mine and how it stung a little but I didn't really care because it was you and you smelled like coffee and it was comforting.

You didn't even ask what had happened, I guess you must have known I wasn't ready to answer, instead you peeled off my clothes and the let me get yours off too. I realised I loved you right then. When we were stood in your shower in our underwear with all our other clothing in wet piles at the bottom of the cubicle and you smiled and I laughed and then we were both laughing and crying all at once.

I almost regret what I did then, sometimes I feel a twinge of guilt, I guess I knew even then what I was letting us in for, after all even my own father couldn't accept it, why should anybody else? You looked so beautiful though and I kissed you even though it hurt to do so. Then you kissed me back.

I'm still sorry for what happened after that. I'm sorry I made you hide it so long, at first I made an excuse about not wanting anyone to know until I went back to school, and by then I'd worked it up in my head so much that I was literally petrified of letting anybody find out.

So we hid. I made you hide. I guess I knew what would happen, I wish it was just me being scared, God I wish that so hard but there is one undeniable thing that all the wishing in the world couldn't change; The bible says that gays go to hell and South Park was a town of people brought up on that religion and we couldn't avoid the homophobes forever. Eventually my bruises faded but I never went home. You, Clyde and Jimmy went and got my things and you were the one who told Clyde and Jimmy that my dad was drunk and just being ridiculous when he yelled that he "never wanted to see the little queer again," about me. Even though it hurt you to hide it you did it anyway; for me.

But we couldn't hide forever, you couldn't hide forever, I don't even know the full extent of what that did to you because you'd never say. And then we allowed people to know. It felt like for every one person who accepted it there were ten there willing to mock and ridicule and I hated it. Then the bullying started and I took as much of it as I could. I felt it was the least I could do because you had done so much for me, let me stay with you, helped me find somewhere to live, your dad even gave me a job so I could stay in school and still pay for the flat.

So I took the beatings. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to keep it up.

I feel like I owe you an explanation now, a better one than my sobbed excuse that I couldn't do it anymore; A few days before I broke up with you I overheard something, a conversation, about you. About your sexuality. See a few of the bullies, the worst ones, were threatening you, as if my pain wasn't enough for them and then somebody pointed out that you had never really come out, the only boy you ever said you liked was me.

Then came the comment that really got to me was that it was "a shame Craig hasn't let him prove he isn't queer,"

It's stupid. I feel so stupid putting it on paper. But I honestly thought I'd be saving you. So I broke up with you.

And I haven't been to work. Or school. And I don't know if it worked or not.

All I know is that I miss you.

And I feel like such a fuck up.

And I wanted to know if there is anything I could do to fix this?

Love always

Craig x


	2. Tweek Writes Back

The Letter

Dear Craig,

...Dear seems weird, I can see why you found it hard to decide what word to use.

Of course I remember. You broke the lock on the toilet door because… I don't really know why actually.

I wish you hadn't reminisced like that at me. DAMN YOU. I meant to hate you forever. Now I can't.

Firstly, my parents don't hate you. Dad is worried about you taking time off work though, he doesn't want you to get behind on your rent.

And my mum. I told my mum everything about the beatings and everything. She says she wishes you'd reported it.

Please don't regret it. Not ever. I don't, even when you broke up with me I never regretted it and I honestly never could. You actually made my life worth it, the day I decided to make friends with you was the day I made the best and stupidest decision of my life. See those people were half right, I haven't ever liked anyone else, there hasn't ever really been anyone but you who I've wanted to be with. So you are the only guy I've liked but I've never liked a girl either.

Oh and I'm not beautiful.

God, the day I got your things. I should have guessed why you didn't want people to know, your own father hated you for it. I guess I was too wrapped up in my own shit to really think about it.

Your dad was awful; he said some really horrible things. I remember trying not to cry as I packed up your stuff. I don't think I can even tell you what he said, I blocked a lot of it out and tried to forget it all. I love you too much to even think of him saying those things about you.

I wish we'd talked to each other about these things. I didn't know why it scared you so much and you never knew why it hurt me.

I think I owe you an explanation too.

See when you wouldn't tell people I got it into my head that it was because of me. I thought that maybe you were ashamed of me, not that it was because I was male but because I was _me_. I was that crazy kid who was always dosed up on caffeine, that twitching wreck. I never thought you'd be ashamed of being with a boy; it just didn't seem like you. I guess I was way wrong there.

The day we got together, in the shower, I knew I couldn't ask you who'd done that to you, I had an inkling it was because of the gay thing but when we were wrapped up in the towels and you told me. When you told me that your own dad had beaten the crap out of you. I nearly couldn't believe it. I really was in so much shock. And the pressure? I think it was the first time I've ever taken responsibility for anything without having a massive spaz-attack, I just knew that all I wanted was to stop you being in pain. I still want to stop it. I wish there was somewhere we could go when you'd be safe. Because I know you and I know you have too much pride to let me be the one who gets beaten up for being what we are but I don't care, I'd rather they hit me than hit you. I guess you feel the same about me though.

I guess that's why you tried to save me.

Craig you're right though. You total idiot. Do you really think them smacking me around would hurt as much as you finishing with me did? I'd take a thousand beatings over that pain. I thought heartbreak was something reserved for cheesy love songs. Just some stupid metaphor. But it isn't, it's real, I didn't know it until you said "We're over," and it felt like somebody had actually pulled my heart in half.

And I've gone in written this whole long letter when all I really wanted to say was I'm sorry too.

But I don't think I'm ready to take you back yet.

I'd like it if we could still be friends.

But I'll understand if you don't want to.

Love Tweek.

xx


	3. Running From Mistakes

The Letter

Chapter 3 - Craigs Point Of View.

AN: Thanks so much for the reviews, faves etc. I'm sorry it took so long to do this, I didn't know where to take it next.  
Just be warned it's going to get even sadder.

* * *

I've made a few glaring mistakes in my life. The first was letting Eric Cartman and his gang talk me into using my birthday money to start a Peruvian Flute band. The most recent was breaking up with the love of my life because some idiot rednecks didn't like that fact that we were both male.

I have Tweeks reply letter in my hands and he's right, the emotional pain of not being with him? It's worse than any beating any guy, no matter how big and strong, could ever give.

But I can't fix it and he just wants to be friends now. Just friends. Like that worked out for us before… I won't try to force anything though, I'm not stupid enough not to realise that it's over and I have to accept that this biggest stupidest mistake can't be fixed with a simple apology.

I sit with the letter in my hands for what feels like forever. I don't know what I thought, I hoped maybe we could erase the past weeks and start again, it never even occurred to me that Tweek might not want to. Not until I saw it written down.

Then it's hits me that I'm well and truly alone. I want to leave, to just get out of here right now so I grab the keys to the car and hope there's enough gas in the tank to get to Denver.

I'll have to shower first though, and shave, I can't just turn up on my Nanas door step in this much of a mess without her calling my parents and giving them an earful. The last thing I need is them getting involved.

I don't want to face the shower, it seems stupid but I have too many memories attached to showering and haven't dared to do so since I broke up with Tweek. I stink though, the combination of smoke and sweat isn't a pleasant smell when it's been on you for more than a day.

I run the shower too hot but get in anyway ignoring that the level of heat scalds me slightly and begin to wash away the dirt. By the time I'm done my skin feels slightly raw but I ignore the sting as I grab a towel and dry myself before getting into the first pair of jeans I can find and my Red Racer shirt, I wear the damn thing like a comfort blanket, Clyde once said you can tell I'm upset because I wear that shirt. Normally after a shower I blow dry and straighten my hair but I can't be bothered today so I rub it as dry as it's going to get and stick my hat on over it.

I pick the keys up again and grab my cell phone and a jumper before shoving my feet into black pumps with the backs crushed down, I've walked on them so many times that there no resistance to me wearing them like this anymore.

The car is sat on the drive way thankfully the worse that's happened is the windscreen or so I think until I try to start the engine, obviously my poor car hasn't taken very kindly to me leaving it there in the snow for days and it stalls about four times before I finally get it running.

So I drive away from South Park, and the rednecks, and my parents, and Tweek, the boy I love who's now just my friend. This is how I do things though, I don't face them, I run away from them. I've always been like this.

I should have realised it sooner but I think it had to be something big like this to make me see how stupid it is. Yet here I am doing it all over again. Running away from my mistakes because I'm too ashamed I made them to face the consequences.

Then I realise I shouldn't run away, not again, I've been running for years and gotten myself into the biggest mess I could.

I turn the wheel; attempt to make a U-turn because the road is empty.

It's too late by the time that I realise that the road is too icy for this. That one turn of a wheel is the second biggest mistake I've ever made.

It's too late to do anything though, even with the snow tyres the car skids out of control. I wrench the wheel in a vain attempt to stay on the road but it does nothing and then the car goes over the edge of the banking and I'm aware of it flipping but I'm out cold before it lands.

My phone rings and at first I can't figure out why I'm on my side, or why I'm so cold. Or why I'm wet. But I reach into my pocket and pull the phone out. It's dark where I am, and my legs hurt, in fact all of me hurts and I don't understand why, but I answer the phone anyway.

"Hey man, I was walking past your house and saw the car gone, you okay?" Clydes voice crackles down the line.

Oh god. The car. I flipped the car and I'm still in it.

"Clyde, I flipped the car," I tell him trying to calmly move. Pain rips through my body as I try and I have to grit my teeth against the scream that threatens. My head is too fuzzy.

"Where are you?" Clyde asks terror in his voice.

"You know that back road to Denver before you reach the freeway?" I tell him groggily. I hope I'm there. I don't know, it's night out and all I can see through the broken windshield is the leaves of the bush that must have caught the car.

"I'm calling an ambulance, stay there." Clyde tells me.

"I can't exactly move…" I try and tell him but he's hung up already and I can feel myself losing consciousness again, I force myself to stay awake though until I can hear the ambulance. The last thing I wonder as the flashing lights of sirens is why the hell I'm so damn wet and the hope that it's just the radiator leaking.


	4. What You Don't Know

The Letter

Chapter 4 – Tweeks point of view.

A/N: So I uploaded this almost a year ago, in fact it was about sixteen days less than being exactly a year. And I haven't updated in ten months. I suck.

I'm sorry about that to everyone who watched, reviewed or faved, and especially those of you who must have seen that I hadn't updated in ages and had faith that one day I might.

Anyway you can thank the band Monrose and their song What You Don't Know for the inspiration to write this next piece.

So thank you all so much, and lets get to the actual chapter shall we?

* * *

The ride to the hospital had been horrible, I'd maybe had a faint hope that over the years I'd gained a handle on my paranoia, all of that small hope flew out of the window as soon as I heard Craig was in the hospital.

I'd left my house at a sprint and not stopped until I reached Clyde's car at the end of my road, it had been a tough fight to keep myself from the panic attack that threatened, the tingles that started in my fingers, the tight constriction of my throat that prevented the air I was sucking in like it was my last breath from properly reaching my lungs. I'd almost succumbed to it as we had pulled into the parking lot, I didn't think I'd make it through the hospital doors without passing out.

By some miracle I'd made it through the doors and to the information desk. Where we told, or rather Clyde was told, because I could barely hear the womans voice over the rushing of my own blood, that Craig was in surgery and their policy was family only at this stage.

I don't know what happened next, I remember that suddenly my throat allowed me to speak, even if the firm, angry voice hadn't sounded like my own, informed the woman that we _were _Craig's family, or rather the closest thing to it because his real family wouldn't even come if he died, his real family didn't give a shit but we did, we loved him like his parents refused to and that if she didn't let us wait as family should then I'd personally search the whole hospital to find him because his parents might not love him but I damn well did.

We'd been asked to take a seat whilst she called one of her superiors and finally we were told we could go upstairs and wait. I don't know how I'd even spoke, words were failing me again but I didn't care, all I cared about was getting as close to Craig as I could possibly be, even if it meant braving an elevator, which I hate, and sitting in uncomfortable plastic seats drinking instant coffee from a crappy vending machine, which I also hate.

What I hated most though was the hospital itself. I hate hospitals. There's too much illness. Too much Death. Too much pressure. Hospitals scare me. Really, really scare me, not as many things scare me as badly as when I was a child but this…this scared me. Being here waiting for them to tell me if the boy I love will even make it through the night scared me like nothing else ever has, not even the first day of highschool, not even the monsters in my mind that prevented my sleep, not even the underpants gnomes. The fear of losing Craig forever was the most terrifying thing in the world, and I couldn't hide from it, couldn't cry in a heap, couldn't hole myself up and get away and this time he couldn't be here to hold my hand, to tell me it would all be alright, tell me he loved me and he might never be able to do that again that was the worst fear in the world. And I'm confronting it all alone.

I'm sat on a hard chair and it should be paining me but it isn't. The walls are white and bare, the chairs are hard green plastic and I've been sitting here for three hours. The coffee in the cup in my hand has gone cold. I've never been unable to drink a cup of coffee but my mouth feels like it's full of cotton wool. The lights are too bright and everything seems fuzzy around the edges.

I can hear Clyde sniffling beside me but it's like I have earmuffs on or something. Clyde started crying around the time I gave up drinking the coffee because it tasted like petrol.

I wish there was something I could say but my mind can't form the words. I know lots of reassuring things, I've been told lots of reassuring things, mostly by Craig, but there are no words of reassurance now, nothing I can possibly say can make it okay because this time it isn't in my mind. I can't tell Clyde he's being paranoid because he isn't, I'm not. For once the danger is real and immediate and there isn't anything we can do or say that could possibly make any of this alright.

The hours pass steadily away the fading daylight turns to the pitch black of the night, stars fill what I can see of the night sky through the window at the end of the hall, the clock on the wall ticks the seconds away and Clyde gently snores beside me, his head resting on my thigh in the way Craigs had so many times.

The urge for proper coffee had hit me but there was no way of getting any short of leaving the hospital which I wasn't going to do. Not even for coffee. Instead I threaded my fingers together and flexed them, then unthreaded them clasping both hands together. Then fiddled with the hem of my shirt. Anything to stop myself biting my nails as they were already pretty raw and biting further would leave my fingers a bloodied mess.

I was still staring at my fingernails when a pretty young nurse came over and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. I immediately had to fight down the thought that it meant bad news, I'd seen enough hospital dramas to know that they'd send the actual doctor or surgeon to tell the relatives the bad news.

"The doctor sent me to tell you your friend is in a stable condition," She told me smiling gently.

"Can I..?"

She didn't even need to hear the rest of the question to know what I wanted, "Should we wake your friend?"

I thought about it for a moment, Clyde had eventually drifted off after we'd sat for three hours, he hadn't been awake to hear that Craig was alive and out of surgery, that they were making sure he was in a stable condition. I hadn't wanted to wake him then and didn't want to now. I told myself it was because Clyde was used to and needed his sleep, unlike me. However I did feel a twinge of guilt and a small voice in the back of my mind told that maybe I was just being selfish, wanting to see Craig first, have him to myself. I brushed it away and gently moved out from under Clyde's head. The boy made a small snuffle and tucked his arm under his head, still dead to the world.

"I think he needs the rest," I replied solemnly, mostly telling the truth.

The nurse smiled and nodded before leading me down the hall to Craigs room. She didn't come in with me though, just stood at the door, a look of pity on her face.

The first thing I noticed were the tubes and wires everywhere, like the backs of the computers in the school IT room, the bed looked huge too, or maybe Craig just looked small against the crisp white sheets. He was in some kind of hospital gown, black hair falling into his eyes, both of which were blackened with bruising and he had tubes in his nose and a mask over his mouth. I could only see him from the armpits upwards, both arms laying flatly at his sides covered with bandages and medical tape holding various tubes and wires in place.

I was reminded with a pang of hurt that the only other time I'd seen him look so vulnerable was the time he turned up at my house, black and blue from the beating his father had given him.

My breath caught uncomfortably in my throat as I moved noiselessly over to the bed where he lay. I sat awkwardly in the chair beside his bed and took one of his hands in mine as carefully as I could, not wanting to mess up the machines. His hand that usually felt so sure, so strong, so much bigger than mine suddenly felt small and fragile under my fingers.

The tears came then, the sobs welling up inside me and choking out of my throat until I had to release them and just cry.


End file.
